


April

by nazgularepeopletoo



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Coping, Gen, He's trying so hard, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22810072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nazgularepeopletoo/pseuds/nazgularepeopletoo
Summary: William comes home, and tries to cope without Blake.
Relationships: Implied Thomas Blake/William Schofield, William Schofield/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 43





	April

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brookeluvsdogs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookeluvsdogs/gifts).



He hadn’t been home long before he got restless. William Schofield, two medals he didn’t want, and the quiet of civilian life weren’t mixing. He’d stayed cooped up in the house until he was fully healed, the girls and Maria doting on him to no end. Luckily the doctors had been able to treat his hand before it had gotten to the point of amputation, but he’d never be able to use it like he had before. It was stiff and awkward, and some days he wished they had removed it. He would always have a scar on the back of his head, and his breathing was never going to be the same, but overall, he’d made it out of the war physically okay. 

Maria suggested they go somewhere, go somewhere untouched by the war, but they both knew that wasn’t going to happen. So he stayed, restless. Despite his hand, he was still able to carve, which was a blessing. He would have gone crazier than he was if he didn’t have something to do. Farm work wasn’t on the table, not unless he was willing to be short of breath, something that threw him back into that German trench. He’d made that mistake once and it had taken the rest of the day to calm down, silent. That was new, and Maria had noticed other small things that had changed. She knew these things would happen, but it was still hard to see him suffering

Being short of breath panicked him, in the same way something covering his eyes did as well. He couldn’t drink milk, absolutely refused to, at first not even being able to stand the smell of it. He woke up screaming sometimes, or gasping for breath, convinced he was back on the front lines or drowning in the river. More often than not he would say Blake’s name before dissolving into tears, clinging to Maria for dear life. She didn’t say anything, just held him as much as he needed.

Another new thing he would do is go for walks. Long walks, that usually lasted a day. He’d head out into the woods in the morning and not come back until the next morning. The first time it happened he had no explanation, just looked exhausted and sat at the table, flexing his left hand. Maria had panicked, and yelled at him, apologising after she’d gotten over her initial anger. He’d waited until she’d finished and apologised as well, softly. When asked he couldn’t give a reason, and she didn’t press the issue, just asked that if he was going to do it again he would tell her. He agreed.

—

One of the days when he kissed her forehead and told her he was going for a walk, about a year after he’d come home, she waited a moment, then followed him. She wasn’t sure what her plan was, if she was going to stop after a while and go home, or keep going until he was coming back. He’d never said she couldn’t follow him, but it still almost felt like a betrayal of trust. She continued after him anyway, picking her way through the forest.

They traveled for hours, the sun hitting its peak before Will stopped, pulling an apple out of his bag and sitting with his back against a tree. Maria did the same, waiting for him to keep moving. It was probably about noon. Will didn’t move again for an hour, but he finally got back to his feet with a grunt and kept going. It wasn’t until the sun was half down that he stopped again, at the edge of a clearing. Maria couldn’t see what was in it until he went forward again after a moment, hesitating. When she finally glimpsed what was there she gasped, putting a hand over her mouth.

In the field were cherry trees, a whole orchard of them. They stretched across the edge of the forest, standing in orderly rows. It was April, and the trees were blooming, white covering the ground and sky. As she watched, Will entered one of the rows, running his hands over the bark of the trees he passed, before stopping, picking one to sit under. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back to face the sky and the waning sunlight that spilled onto his skin. Maria backed away, heading back to the house to give him some space. 

He sat there half asleep as the sun went down, feeling the petals fall gently on him, fluttering over his cheeks like butterfly kisses. He didn’t usually cry when he visited the orchard anymore, but the blossoming flowers, the fragrance washing over him, the gentle touches, it was too much. Tears slipped down his cheeks along with the petals, and he swallowed roughly, holding back a sob. 

“They’re blooming now, Tom. Just like they were. Soon someone’s gonna have to come pick them. I’m sure they know the different kinds, just like you did.” He paused, breath stuttering as the tears came a little faster. “God I miss you… I miss you so much… But... I guess I’ll have you back every time the cherries bloom, won’t I?” 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I decided that William carves wood but he does.


End file.
